Smoke Screen
by slantedknitting
Summary: Ron says something that jeopardizes his friendship with Harry. Warning: Harry/Ron slash.
1. Chapter 1

Ron brought the cigarette slowly to his lips and slipped the yellow filter between them, but did nothing else. Harry nodded his head, smiling. Ron sucked, pulled the cigarette away, and coughed roughly. Handing it back to Harry, Ron reached for his drink and gulped it down.

"It takes a while." Harry called to the bartender for more firewhisky. He put the cigarette between his lips as he slapped some galleons on the counter and turned away, gripping his drink. Ron grabbed at his drink and slurped it, letting it slowly burn his throat. He watched Harry suck expertly at the cigarette, fascinated by its function and Harry's description of it's effects. Originally, Ron had little interest in trying Muggle nicotine, but, this drunk, he forgot small scruples.

An hour passed and Ron was slouched against the bar, watching the great mass of people dancing a few feet away. He turned to Harry to suggest getting another round of drinks, but found no one next to him. Frowning, Ron tried to search the crowd but failed, managing only to make himself dizzy. He ordered a butterbeer and drank it slowly, wishing Harry were still there. Finally, almost done his drink, Ron spotted his friend in the crowd of dancers. Carelessly tossing the butterbeer on the counter, Ron strode towards Harry and leaned against him heavily.

"Harry, let's-let's..." Ron stared at the girl Harry had been dancing with and smiled. "Hi there. I'm Ron... Ron Weasley? Harry Potter's best friend, you know?"

Harry frowned and grabbed Ron's wrist and spun, aiming for their apartment. They landed in the lobby of the building and Ron fell, letting go of Harry. The receptionist looked away from the television at the noise.

"Alright, sir?"

Harry smiled weakly and pulled Ron forcibly to his feet. "He's fine... just a bit drunk." Without waiting for a response, Harry dragged Ron into an elevator. "Fuck you." Harry threw Ron off and turned away as Ron hit the side of the elevator and sunk to the floor again. He hit the button for the twelfth floor and stared, impatiently, at the doors. When they opened, he glanced down at Ron, who was sitting against the wall with his eyes closed and a drunken smile plastered across his flushed face. Harry kicked Ron's leg and walked out of the elevator and down the hall.

Ron, without opening his eyes, reached up for the handrail and slowly, clumsily, pulled himself up. Attempting to hit the button to make the doors open again, he hit the level fifteen button and stumbled as the elevator began to move again. Ten minutes later, Ron made it to his apartment and locked the door behind him. Harry was standing in the kitchen with a glass of water. When Ron walked in, Harry turned away.

"What's wrong?" Ron shed his jacket and, absentmindedly, began to undress. "Harry?" He called, dropping his pants to the floor.

Harry turned and looked at his friend. Ron was grabbing at his shirt, trying to pull it off. Sighing, he muttered, "Nothing," and walked over, reaching out and pulling Ron's shirt over his head. "'Night." Clutching Ron's shirt, Harry went into his bedroom and shut the door.

-

In the morning, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table eating toast and reading the Daily Prophet when Ron emerged from his room, looking like he had just, with great effort, escaped death. Harry glanced up as Ron made his way to the bathroom, clutching his stomach. Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed his wand and muttered a silencing spell at the bathroom door before turning back to the newspaper.

Ron emerged a few minutes later, looking remarkably well composed. Harry vaguely wondered if Ron knew a hangover-curing spell, but didn't ask. Ron sat down and reached for a piece of toast, but Harry slapped his hand away.

"Fuck off." Harry pulled his plate closer.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "What the hell, Harry?"

"You're a bloody... git." Harry did not seem satisfied with his insult, but said no more.

Ron glanced around the room, looking for an explanation. He saw his clothes flung across the floor. "Did..." Ron cleared his throat nervously. "Did we... _shag_?"

Harry's head shot up. "N-no…" His heart was thrashing wildly against his ribcage.

Ron glared at Harry from across the table. "Then what?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to say anything else. He looked back down at the paper.

"Harry, stop pissing around and talk to me."

Harry slammed the Prophet on the table and glared up at Ron. "Last night, at the club, you went up to a girl and introduced yourself as Harry Potter's best friend."

Ron froze. Harry avoided his gaze.  "Mate..." Ron shifted uncomfortably. Harry grunted in response. "Harry, I was drunk."

After a long pause, Harry spoke quietly. "I know."

"Harry... Harry, I'm sorry. You know I don't do that, mate... you know I would never do that, if... if I knew what I was doing."

Harry grunted again.

"Well…what do you want me to say?" Ron asked, pulling his chair closer to the table.

"Nothing." Harry spoke clearly. "There's nothing you can say, Ron."

"Harry..." Ron bit his lip.

"Shut it." Harry sighed and stood. Without looking at Ron, he took the newspaper and shut himself up in his room.

Ron slumped down in his chair.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're bleeding." Ron grabbed a napkin and pressed it into Harry's trembling palm. His hand lingered, adding pressure to the gaping wound, until Harry stepped away.  "I'm fine." Harry flexed his fingers around the napkin and winced.  "You're not fine – you nearly sliced right through your hand. Where's my wand?"

"I don't need it." Harry weakly tossed the blood-soaked napkin in the trashcan and pressed a clean one to his hand.

"Harry! You're losing blood..." Ron watched as Harry staggered to the bathroom and grabbed a bottle off the shelf. He poured the essence of dittany over his palm and sat down shakily on the edge of the bathtub, hanging his head and holding his hand out as it healed slowly.

Ron grabbed his wand off the couch and blasted the trail of blood out of their apartment. Then, ignoring the look of hatred on Harry's face, he went to the bathroom and whispered some spells over Harry's hand until there was only a thin line across his palm. Harry moved his fingers and held back a whimper of pain.

Ron looked at Harry's hand and pursed his lips. "I don't know if any of that made up for your blood loss... you might want to go to St. Mungo's just to check."

"I don't fucking need to go to St. Mungo's." Harry stood up and weakly pushed past Ron.

"Then at least let Hermione come over to look at it." Before Harry could protest, Ron spun and disappeared. A minute later, he reappeared in the kitchen, clutching Hermione's arm. They found Harry sitting on the couch, holding his healed hand gingerly in the other. "He won't let me, Hermione, would you just do it, please?"

Confused, Hermione sat down next to Harry and took his hand. "I told Ron the spell, Harry." She waved her wand and said the incantation loudly. "Why would you not have let him help? And how did this happen?" She watched Harry with concerned eyes.

"I was chopping vegetables." Harry gestured to the kitchen counter where a huge knife lay next to some carrots. "I wasn't paying attention and I grabbed the wrong end of the knife."

"Well why didn't you just charm the knife, mate?" Ron asked, and with a flick of his wand, the knife began to chop the carrots.

"Because sometimes I like doing things the normal way!" Harry glared up at Ron, whose mouth dropped open.

"What bloody normal way? The Muggle way? Why is that suddenly normal?"

"Just shut up about it." Harry stood and turned to Hermione. "Thanks." Then, without looking at Ron, he Disapparated.

"What the hell was that all about?" Hermione stood and turned to Ron, who plopped down on a kitchen chair and dropped his wand on the table.

"He's angry... with me." Ron motioned for Hermione to sit down with him, and she did. "Apparently... last night... well, we were at a club and I was... completely pissed, and apparently I went up to some bird and told her I was Harry's best mate. And he heard, I guess, or... I'm not really sure, I don't remember it at all. He's pretty gutted about it... obviously."

"Ron! How could you do that? You, of all people-"

"Hermione, I didn't mean to do it. I was pissed! I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. You know I would never do that to him." Ron sighed and avoided Hermione's stern gaze. "I guess he has a right to be upset. But I don't know what to do. He almost lost his hand a minute ago and he would barely let me help with that."

Hermione shrugged and looked away from Ron. "I don't understand you."

"Hermione – I didn't mean it. You must know that."

"I know that." She spoke quietly. "But... Harry... he'll take more convincing. I can't believe you said that. I'm surprised he was here making lunch... and not off at Ginny's."

"In case you hadn't noticed, they're not together anymore." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Ron, I'm not blind. I know that. But they're still friends." Hermione watched Ron carefully. "They're really close."

Ron blinked. "Oh."

"You don't pay attention to anything, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned closer. "Harry and Ginny are best friends. How did you not notice this?"

Ron grunted. "Harry and Ginny are not best friends. He's... my... best friend."

Hermione leaned back in her chair. "When was the last time you even had a proper conversation with him?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but found nothing to say. He closed his mouth and shrugged, wondering when Harry and his sister had gotten so close.

Hermione sighed and stood. "You should try to talk to him, Ron. Don't get defensive – he has a right to be so gutted. If he yells at you, just let him. I'll see you later." She grabbed her wand and spun, disappearing with a small pop.


	3. Chapter 3

Ron came out of his room that night when he heard Harry's Apparition. He frowned when he saw his friend – Harry's hair was even more unkempt than usual, and he looked a bit hazy. Harry's smile faded when he saw Ron.

"Piss off," Harry swayed slightly and started for his room. Ron stepped in the way.

"No, I want to talk." He put his hand on Harry's arm to keep him from falling over. "You're drunk."

"No." Harry stood up straighter and glared at Ron. "Get off me." He stepped out of Ron's reach and started for his room again.

"Fine, Harry, but I want to talk to you tomorrow."

"Piss off," Harry repeated, slamming his bedroom door in Ron's face.

-

Harry came out of his room the next morning to find Ron sitting on their couch, flipping through a Muggle newspaper.

"Harry, can we talk?" Ron asked, looking up.

Harry grunted and went to the kitchen to get some water.

"Please?" Ron stood and followed him, tossing the paper onto the floor.

"What?!" Harry turned to Ron, anger etched across his features. "What, Ron? What?"

Ron took a step back and gulped nervously. "I just… wanted to talk to you. I don't want this to keep going, Harry. I can't live here like this if you're so angry."

"Fine." Harry sat down at the table. "What do you want to talk about?"

Ron frowned and sat down across from him. "Well… I don't know… whatever you want to talk about. Where did you go yesterday?"

"Out."

"Okay… well, did you have fun?"

"I had sex."

Ron blinked, startled. "Oh. Erm, well… that… that's good. Was she a looker?"

Harry grunted and looked up at Ron. "Look, Ron, you're supposed to be my best mate. You haven't wanted to talk to me like this in over a year. You're a bloody prick and you know it. You don't fucking go up to girls and tell them that you're my best friend. Is that all I mean to you, after all these years? I'm your bloody roommate and your ticket to birds?"

Ron shook his head desperately, trying to form words in his throat. "No! No, Harry, you have to believe me. I've never done that before… ever. I don't think that way, Harry, you know that. You know me. I was sloshed. I didn't mean it. I would never, ever do that to you if I knew what it was I was doing. Harry?"

Harry was staring down at his hands. After a minute, he gave a nod. "Alright."

Ron bit his lip. "Alright?"

"Alright," Harry repeated.

"So… we're okay?" Ron asked cautiously.

"No, Ron, we're not okay. You've ignored me for a year."

Ron sighed, leaning closer to Harry. "I know, mate, I… I know. I'm sorry. I am sorry, mate. It's just that… you… you're so successful and happy and settled and I'm…well, I'm me and nothing ever seems to go right for me. I'm sick of my job and I'm sick of being alone and I'm sick of searching for different things."

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not happy or settled and who the fuck cares about being successful if you're not happy or settled."

Ron leaned back, his eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not happy, Ron. I'm not settled. I'm not with anyone, either, so we're both alone and don't use that as an excuse to use me to get fucked."

"I wasn't…" Ron sighed. "You just said you had sex."

"Didn't know who I was when I left." Harry muttered, looking away from Ron. "I wiped his memory."

Ron's mouth dropped open. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. When Ron said nothing, Harry moved to stand.

"No, don't." Ron's voice was small. "Don't go."

Harry sat down and looked sheepishly up at Ron. "So… now you know."

"Harry…" Ron smiled slowly. "Harry, I've always known."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, fuck off, Ron, you have not."

"I have!" Ron insisted, leaning across the table. "I saw you kissing that Ravenclaw lad sixth year. I thought… I thought it was really weird when you started going with Ginny, actually. And I figured when you broke it off, you'd…you know, but you started coming to clubs with me when Hermione and I fell apart, and… and I thought maybe it was just a whim."

Harry gulped nervously and spoke softly, blushing. "It wasn't a whim. I really liked him. I didn't know you saw… why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how to, mate… would've been awkward as fuck. I was waiting for you to tell me… but then you kissed my sister."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. That was easier than… you know. She was nice and pretty and a really fantastic friend. But… I had to end it eventually. She was gutted, sure, but… after I told her that… that I'm… after I told her, she wasn't so upset. She was really great about it, actually. She kept wanting me to tell you… b-but I couldn't. Even Hermione wanted me to tell you, but… what?"

Ron was nearly scowling. "Who else knows? Why am I the last to know, Harry? You said it – I'm supposed to be your best mate. Why couldn't you just tell me? I wouldn't have cared. I don't care. Harry, you know I don't give a flying fuck about that sort of thing."

"I thought… because it's, it's me and we're so close and we live together… I thought maybe you would get weird about it."

"Why would I? It's not like you fancy me or anything."

Harry nodded feebly.

Ron swallowed loudly. "Oh…"

Harry stood and dashed towards the door.

"Harry, no, wait!" Ron ran for it and threw himself against the door. "Don't run away, Harry, that's not going to make this any better."

Harry moved for his wand, but Ron grabbed his wrists. Finally, with nowhere else to turn, Harry looked up into Ron's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Sorry for what, mate?"

"Sorry for not telling you, sorry for fancying you, sorry for making a right mess of this."

"Harry, don't apologize…" Harry tried to break out of Ron's grip, but Ron held him tighter. "Harry, I… I'm not… I'm straight."

"I fucking know it, don't I?" Harry growled and pulled himself out of Ron's hands

Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders and forced their lips together. Harry pulled away, looking more hurt than Ron had seen him in years.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded, his voice growing louder.

Ron bit his lip and shoved his shaking hands in his pockets. "I just… I thought maybe… I wanted to see what it was like."

"Oh, Merlin, Ron, FUCK YOU!" Harry raised his fist to punch Ron, but Ron blocked the move and leaned forward to kiss Harry again. Harry jumped away. "STOP DOING THAT!"

Ron licked his lips, watching Harry fume. "Harry, I – I, Harry, I don't… Harry, please…"

Harry dropped his fists. "Please what?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"Please stop pulling away." Ron stepped closer, wrapped his arms securely around Harry's waist and pressed their lips together again. Harry hesitated, whimpering against Ron's lips. When Ron made no move to get away, Harry grabbed Ron's head with both hands and thrust his tongue through Ron's parting lips. Ron groaned shakily into Harry's mouth and turned, slamming Harry against the door. Harry released Ron's hair and explored down Ron's back, around his waist, and up his stomach and chest. Ron broke the kiss for air, and Harry attached his lips to Ron's neck, sucking roughly. Ron braced himself with a hand on the door and moaned helplessly as Harry took Ron's ear into his mouth.

Ron pulled his head away and hung it low, finding Harry's neck with his tongue and swirling circles on it. Harry groaned in a way Ron had never heard before and reached down between their bodies, rubbing himself through his trousers. Ron looked down as the back of Harry's hand brushed his jeans. There was a growing bulge underneath Harry's pants, and the sight of Harry desperately running the heel of his palm over it made Ron weak all over. Harry took advantage of Ron's pause and pushed him towards the couch. Sticking his free hand under Ron's shirt, he shoved Ron forward until he tripped over the armrest and landed on his back. Ron scooted up on the couch, sitting up slightly against the opposite side. Harry removed his trousers in a flash and straddled Ron, stroking himself slowly. Ron watched and groaned uncontrollably, feeling his own cock straining against his jeans. Harry leaned down and kissed Ron heatedly, memorizing every curve of Ron's mouth with his hungry tongue. Ron panted and thrust his hips against Harry's. Harry sat up and grabbed Ron's trousers, yanking them down to his thighs. He eyed Ron's stiff cock, noticing that the curls surrounding it were slightly darker than the hair on Ron's head.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry…" Ron, unable to stand the lustful look in Harry's eyes, reached to touch himself.

"No!" Harry grinned wickedly and leaned down to kiss Ron again. When he was sure Ron was mindlessly lost in the movements of their tongues, he reached down and wrapped a hand around both of their throbbing cocks. Ron broke the kiss and arched his neck, cursing loudly. Harry smiled and watched Ron's face as he moved his hand slowly. Ron clenched his eyes shut and twisted his mouth open, gasping loudly. Quickly losing control, Harry buried his face in Ron's neck and sucked on it desperately as he pumped his hand faster, gripping tighter. He felt Ron shaking beneath him and looked up. Ron's face was red and sweaty and he was grinding his teeth and moaning with each of Harry's strokes. Whimpering, Harry pressed his cheek against Ron's and moaned throatily in Ron's ear as he shook and came over Ron's stomach. Ron's hips jerked as Harry struggled to keep his hand moving through overwhelming pleasure. He squeezed Ron harder than he meant to, and Ron screamed Harry's name as his eyes rolled back in his head and he came harder than he thought possible.

Harry collapsed onto Ron and breathed heavily into his red hair. Ron kissed the side of Harry's face lazily and wrapped his arms around him, trying to catch his breath.

"Harry, that was bloody brilliant," Ron whispered, brushing the hair out of Harry's face and looking into his scared green eyes. "What… what's wrong?"

Harry pulled himself out of Ron's arms and stood, pulling on his pants and ignoring the sticky mess all over his front. Ron sat up and reached out to Harry, but it was too late. Harry had grabbed his wand and spun on the spot, disappearing before Ron's eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and Ginny were sitting a park, silently watching some pigeons eating a dropped cracker. Harry was on his third cigarette. Ginny was waiting for an explanation, but knew better than to pressure Harry. He had Apparated into her apartment, grabbed her arm without saying a word, and Disapparated them both into this park, where they had been sitting for over an hour. Someone Ginny was pretty sure was an ex-Hogwarts student was eyeing them with interest, but Harry was used to ignoring those kinds of looks.

"Harry…" Ginny watched as he lit a fourth cigarette with the butt of his third. "You know that's not healthy, right?"

"Fuck off," Harry brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled defiantly.

"Harry, why are we here?"

"I needed to think."

"And you brought me with you, why?"

Harry nervously tapped his cigarette and watched the ashes fall onto the dirt below their bench. "I thought I needed to talk to someone. Maybe I was wrong. I'm sorry. You can go back."

"I don't mind staying. You can talk if you need."

Harry nodded and watched the group of pigeons scatter to find more food. One of them pecked its way over to their bench. "Ron apologized."

"Well, that's good, right?"

"Sort of… we started talking. I told him I was sick of him ignoring me. He said he did it because I'm bleeding happy, successful and settled and not as fucking alone as he is. Complete tosser. How dare he tell me I'm happy, settled and not alone? He doesn't know anything about me or my life. He doesn't give a damn."

Ginny frowned. "Maybe you should go back and talk to him… tell him how you feel. Tell him you're not as happy as he thinks."

"I did." Harry sucked on his cigarette again and waited a few minutes before continuing. "And I told him."

Ginny waited for more of an explanation. "Told him what?"

"You know… told him."

Ginny's eyes widened and she grabbed Harry's knee. "You did? What did you say? What did he say? Oh, Harry…"

Harry grunted and tapped his cigarette. "I told him I slept with a bloke. He told me that he'd always known... saw me and Dan kissing sixth year. And that means that Ron knew before you did, before Hermione did, before anyone did. And he never said anything about it to me."

"It's not like you ever said anything about it to him," Ginny reasoned.

"That's not the point." Harry stabbed his cigarette out on one of the bench's wooden planks. "The point is… he figured out that I… you know."

"Fancy him? Maybe if you actually learned to say the words, you wouldn't be so miserable all the time, Harry. You said Voldemort's name without fear when you were eleven years old – it's fifteen years later and you can't even say you're gay or that you fancy Ron."

Harry pulled his wand out of his jacket and fiddled with it, glancing up at the ex-Hogwartian, knowing that he had confirmed her suspicions about who was sitting on the bench. "Yeah, well… it's a bit different, I suppose." He sighed and kicked at the pigeon. "It doesn't matter now anyway. I'm moving out."

"Harry, I'm sure it's not that bad. Ron's… he doesn't care. You know that."

"I know that." Harry looked up at the sky and cursed loudly. "He kissed me."

Ginny's hand flew to her mouth. "Merlin! He kissed you?"

Harry nodded. "He kissed me. Straight, Ickle Ronniekins." Without thinking, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit another one.

"If he kissed you… is he gay?"

"Don't be stupid. He said, he told me, 'I'm straight.' He's straight, Ginny… always has been, always will be. And I know it. And I need to get over him."

"No, Harry…" Ginny bit her lip and racked her brain desperately. "Harry, if Ron kissed you, then… then he's not straight… he kissed you."

"I fucking know he kissed me!" Harry thrust his wand back into his jacket and crossed his arms. "He looked at me and told me that he's straight and then he went and bloody kissed me to 'see what it was like.' He's a git and I'm not talking to him again and I'm moving out."

"Harry, don't be so rash." Ginny leaned her head against his shoulder. "Besides… you smelled like cum when we first got here. Explain that one."

Harry chewed on his tongue. "You weren't supposed to catch that cleaning spell," he admitted, sticking the cigarette between his lips and leaving it there. "I thought I was quick."

Ginny sat up and forced Harry to meet her gaze. "Harry, he more than kissed you. Obviously, he's not straight. I mean, I admit it, I'm pretty shocked about it, too. But, you have to admit it that… that maybe there's a chance after all that Ron fancies you right back."

Harry grunted and looked away, inhaling and pulling the cigarette away as he exhaled. "He doesn't fancy me, Ginny. He's just a slut. He always has been. You know that."

Ginny frowned at the deep sadness running through Harry's deep voice. "Harry… would you at least go back and talk to him before making assumptions? Would you just, for once, let something good happen to you without doing everything you can to make sure you fuck it up?"

Harry sighed deeply and finished his cigarette in silence. Stabbing it out, he turned back to Ginny. "Fine. But, I'm telling you, he's not a bloody shirt-lifter. Come on." Harry stood and held out his hand, pulling Ginny up with him. "I'll buy you dinner."


	5. Chapter 5

Ginny let Harry spend the night on her couch, but kicked him out early the next morning and made him promise to at least try to talk to Ron. Harry, mumbling something rude under his breath, turned away from Ginny and disappeared with a quiet pop.

Ron was leaning against the back of the couch in their apartment, scanning the front page of The Daily Prophet when Harry Apparated and appeared inches away from him. Clutching the paper tightly to his chest, Ron exhaled shakily.

"Bloody hell, Harry! You scared the piss out of me."

"Sorry." Harry stepped away and took off his coat, throwing it over the back of a kitchen chair. He stepped towards his room, but Ron held his arm to prevent him from escaping.

"You smell like cigarettes."

"Imagine that."

"Harry, can we talk?" Ron's voice was soft as he dropped the newspaper and stepped closer to his nervous flatmate. "Please?"

Harry nodded wordlessly, avoiding Ron's piercing blue eyes. Ron sat down at the kitchen table, and Harry followed, reluctantly.

"Where have you been?"

"Ginny's."

"Oh. Right." Ron frowned slightly. "I didn't really know you two were close…"

"Yeah, well…" Harry shrugged, holding back an insult.

"Why did you leave?"

Harry looked down at his feet and chewed on his tongue, wondering if he should just make his life easier and modify Ron's memory. "I… I don't… I don't just fancy you, Ron. Maybe at Hogwarts, yeah… I fancied you and I fancied Cedric and I fancied Dan, the Ravenclaw bloke, and I fancied Dean and I fancied Fred-"

"Fuck, Harry, you fancied Fred?"

"And I fancied Wood and I fancied… everyone 'cept Neville, really…" Harry sighed and picked at one of his thumbnails. "But that was different. That was ten years ago."

Ron sighed and watched Harry closely. "What are you trying to tell me, Harry?"

"I'm trying to tell you that I love you and I can't just be an experiment for you." Harry looked up and met Ron's eyes, barely able to hear his own voice over the blood rushing through his ears and his heart pounding spastically in his chest.

Ron blinked and Harry looked away. "Harry, you're not an experiment." Ron's voice was barely above a whisper.

Harry grunted and rolled his eyes. "Oi, Ron, I do listen to what you say, believe it or not. You told me you were straight and you told me you kissed me to see what it was like. Just because I'm a poofter, doesn't mean I'm stupid, Ron."

"Don't call yourself that." Ron's voice was growing stronger. "And if you haven't learned after all these years to ignore what I say, then you are stupid, Harry. You're not an experiment… you're the person I care about most in the whole world."

"Then why didn't you tell me you knew and why didn't you tell me you were gay and why did you ignore me for the last year if you care about me so bloody much?"

Ron looked over at the sink, helplessly searching for answers. "Harry, I don't have any excuses. I didn't know how to tell you that I saw you kissing some bloke. I didn't… I don't think I'm gay, really. A bloke, one of George's friends, kissed me last year and… and it got me thinking, but I didn't like him and I didn't like any blokes, really… but I thought about you and that Ravenclaw boy and… and then I thought about you, just you, and I thought, maybe… if it was you kissing me, it wouldn't be so bad. But I thought you'd gotten over that… and the more I tried not to think about it, the more I thought about it until I couldn't get it out of my head and I thought about kissing you day and night and I couldn't handle being around you… I'm sorry. I'm so bloody sorry, Harry. I know I've been a complete idiot and I know I've been hurting you this year. I didn't mean to be so rude… honestly. But then you told me, finally, that you're gay, that you're still gay, that it wasn't just the one lad the one time… and I couldn't help myself. I had to kiss you – I had to know if what I'd been thinking about all year was true."

Harry stared up at Ron, forcing himself to accept that Ron wasn't lying. The rawness and honesty in Ron's shaky voice was impossible to ignore. With his pulse racing, Harry swallowed his nerves. "And?"

"And… it was bloody brilliant," Ron smiled despite himself. "I thought you listened to what I say." Ron paused and searched Harry's features for any sign of a smile. "I know I should have stopped things and explained all this before anything happened, but I couldn't help myself. It felt… it felt so right… more right than anything else I've ever felt or known." Ron stood and moved around the table, pulling Harry up easily and looking into his timid green eyes. "I love you, Harry… you're not an experiment and I want to be with you."

A wobbling smile broke across Harry's face. "I love you, too… and want to be with you… and that I'm sorry for being so daft and leaving like that yesterday. But, mostly… I love you."

Ron grinned and slid his fingers into Harry's messy hair, drawing him closer. "I love you, too, Harry." Ron parted Harry's lips with his own and kissed him with everything he had been bottling up inside himself for the past year. Harry kissed back, pressing every possible inch of their bodies together, feeling their hearts beating together against their chests.

"Harry…" Ron pulled back and kissed gently along Harry's jaw. "Can I ask a favor?"

Harry smiled and ran his hand under Ron's shirt and up his back. "Anything."

"Will you stop smoking?" Ron raised his head to look at Harry. "It doesn't taste great."

Harry blushed but cracked a smile. "Sure… yeah. It's not healthy anyway."

"Thanks…" Ron grinned and stepped away. "Go brush your teeth… and meet me in the bedroom when you're done."

"Which one?"

Ron raised his wand and aimed it at the space between their bedroom doors. The two doors slid together to form one, and Harry heard the wall separating the rooms disappear with a scrape. Ron turned back to Harry, grinning. "Hurry up. I have a few more ideas for our room."

Winking, Ron opened the new door and stepped inside the large room, immediately setting off to merge their beds. Harry watched, speechless and paralyzed with shock and joy. He watched as Ron flicked his wand around, dimming the lights in the room and placing new sheets on the new quite-ridiculously large bed. Regaining his senses, Harry tore his eyes off Ron and went into the bathroom. When he reemerged, he found Ron lying on the gigantic bed, naked, hard, and looking up at Harry with obvious lust, and love, in his bright eyes. Harry stepped into the room, shut the door, and stripped down quickly.

"You are something else." Harry mused, crawling on top of Ron.

"Something good?" Ron asked, nipping at Harry's earlobe.

"Something great." Harry chuckled and closed his eyes, letting his lips find Ron's and bringing him into a deep kiss.


End file.
